Fateful Collisions
by Star-Winged Sky
Summary: Once in a while, you may get lucky enough to meet one of those rare people who, however short a length time you spend together, will have an impact on you that will change your life forever. [Pre-anime; a brief meeting between a younger Tokiya and Otoya and the results of it.]


**Author's Note:**

Hai thar, thanks for stopping in. :3 Here's another story from Kooples! Sorry it took so long to get this out. It was a lot of fun to write, but I just kept combing over it... I think I picked it to death.

I tend to do that sometimes. I think that's almost as much cause for late uploads from me as laziness... XD

Anyways. I revived it enough to upload it and it's fine now, so enjoy! xD

**Spoilers:** A few if you don't know the first season.  
**Characters:** Ichinose Tokiya, Ittoki Otoya.  
**Rating:** K+  
**Genre:** Friendship, humor, that kind of thing.

**Disclaimers:** We own nothing... Like, literally. -sighs as a moth flutters out of wallet-

* * *

It's a beautiful day outside. It's warm and breezy and there isn't a single cloud in the sky. The park is vibrant with color and life and sound, as people gather in clusters around trees and at picnic benches or on the shore of the pond to enjoy the magnificent weather together.

There's one dark-haired young man who is alone, however. He's in a slightly out-of-the-way spot, half-hidden from everyone else around. His back is resting against the trunk of a tree, with one leg out straight and the other arched so that he can prop his notepad on his knee. His fingers are holding a pencil motionless above the paper, and his slate-blue gaze is clouded in deep thought.

He isn't thinking about what to write, though, and it would become plain quickly to anyone observing him. He's oddly still and withdrawn, and despite the open, loud and cheerful surroundings he's chosen to settle himself in, he's obviously lost in his own world.

Ichinose Tokiya has always known exactly what he wants to do when he grows up.

Music has always been a part of everything in his life. It _is_ his life. The things he feels, when he sings or when he listens to someone else singing, and the music itself, the sounds behind the words... It's like he's hearing and being guided by another language, one that's so much more expressive to him than speaking alone could ever be.

He's _good_ at what he does, and he knows it. He knows he can go far. And he _loves_ it, he loves to invoke what he feels in other people through the medium of music and the lyrics he writes. He loves to share that with them, and he hopes to inspire them in some way. And not only that, but...

There are songs, whether vocal or instrumental, attached to so many of his best memories. Music is embedded in him so deeply.

His mother has always been a musical person. She never received any formal training, but she's always made music of some kind, as far back as he can remember. She's always whistled and hummed as she worked, or tapped her fingers rhythmically to whatever tune is running in the back of her mind on any available surface while she thinks. She always has music of some kind from her huge variety of albums playing in the house all the time, and she'll stop to add her voice to the mix and dance along when a favorite plays (and she has too many favorites to count). Oftentimes, when he was small, she would swoop over to him and pull him up to join her, laughter and songs alight in her eyes, inviting him to feel the pure, uplifting happiness of sharing music with someone you love.

But his favorite thing that she would do... She used sing him to sleep when he was small. And when they played, the most frequent thing he would request to do would be for them to sing together. They still do that, once in a while.

Those memories will stay with him forever.

His mother lives the saying, 'make a joyful noise.' She was never able to play an instrument herself, and her singing voice isn't anything spectacular... But it doesn't matter to her. Her adoration for all types of music outshines her lack of skill, and she puts music in every aspect of her life that she can. When she sings, she puts her entire being into it, and it makes people smile. They find that they don't care if she's a little off-tune, or if she forgets a word here or there; they love to hear her because she's sincere.

She was absolutely _thrilled_ when she discovered her son's gift for song, and nurtured it however she could.

No, Tokiya has never wavered in his choice of careers.

Before now, at least. His fingers unconsciously tighten around his pencil, as he finally lets the thoughts he's been avoiding coalesce.

His father was fine with his interest in music and becoming an idol when he was young. He thought it was a childish fantasy, or a passing phase. But as Tokiya grew older, and as his talents only increased... Well, it caused a lot of friction between the three of them.

_Being an idol is a frivolous, wasteful thing to do with your life,_ his father scoffs. _Celebrities and stars come and go like fads. Their lives aren't their own, and most of them succumb to the pressure put on them and end up destroying themselves. Music is pretty and all, but it's not important. It won't ever amount to anything. You'll be throwing your life away if you do this, boy. The fame and the money aren't worth it._

His father doesn't understand why he wants to do this, and he never will. Tokiya's too much like his mother. He knows his father loves his mother, but he doesn't _understand_ her. He doesn't understand either of them, and his attitude is clashing against their stubborn natures. It's becoming more and more obvious every day. It's breaking his parents' relationship, and making all three of them miserable.

The word 'divorce' has been tossed around a few times.

Tokiya knows it's his fault. His parents' relationship wasn't exactly perfect before all of this, but they did care about each other, and everything was fine.

He can see that he was the catalyst. His father could tolerate his mother's passion for music, because she wasn't doing anything he'd call _wasteful_ with it. But his son, seriously going after a career of being an idol?

Apparently that's more than he can handle.

Lately, his mother seems to have another gray hair or another wrinkle every time he sees her. And it hurts to see her so drained all the time. She doesn't sing much anymore, and when she does it's always to a melancholy song. He can't stand the lack of music in the house, because he knows what it means is going on in his mother's mind. The types and amount of music played have always correlated to her moods.

He wonders if changing paths now would ease the turbulence between them, or if it's too late. It would hurt him deeply to give up his dream, but it's much, much worse to see his parents like this.

Tokiya starts as he hears his pencil creaking, and stares down at his hand. He loosens his grip and sighs. He's not going to solve anything by sulking about it. He picks up his bottle of water to take a drink before he gets up to leave -

_Wham!_

- And soccer ball flies in out of nowhere with uncanny timing. It slams into the arm holding his water with a jarring force, and Tokiya shouts as he jerks and water sprays everywhere. He blinks, stunned by the impact, and stares dumbly at his now nearly empty bottle, crushed between the fingers that had clenched reflexively. Then there are voices nearby, coming closer, that bring him out of his shock.

"Oh jeez!"

He easily picks the loudest voice out of the lot coming toward him as he glances toward the group of five or six kids, probably around his age. He blinks through the water in his eyes to see that most of them are gathering in a huddle, but one of them has broken off and is jogging over to him.

"I am SO sorry!" The voice raises to almost a wail as the kid approaches.

At first glance, before he wipes the water out of his eyes, Tokiya gets the impression of a streak of _red_. Then his vision clears, and he sees crimson-colored eyes and hair, a rare and eye-catching combination, and the blush on the near-frantically embarrassed boy's face rivals them easily.

"We got a little carried away! One of my friends kicked the ball way too hard and I tried to redirect it, but I was too late -"

Tokiya only half hears the babbling, because he cares less about excuses and more about how his notebook, which caught most of the spray, is soaked now. He ignores the others, drops his bottle and peels it off of his knee with the hand not tucked into his chest, examining the soggy pages with dismay. He hardly cares about his now-damp clothes - they'll dry just fine, but paper and ink...

"Hey, hey, are you okay? I didn't hit you in the head, did I - oh." The redhead seems to realize what Tokiya is looking at, and the near-empty water bottle is within sight, at Tokiya's side. He can almost hear the wince in the other boy's voice. "Uh... I guess that's my fault, sorry... I hope there wasn't anything important in there?"

He sounds anxious, like he actually cares, and it makes Tokiya glance up at him. His eyes are wide and he's biting his lower lip, glancing between the notebook and Tokiya's own cool slate-blue stare.

"Um... Let me see if I can help," he offers, and before Tokiya registers what he's doing, he's kicked the ball back to his friends and told them to go on without him for a while.

"Is your arm okay?" The kid asks, as he's plopping down on the grass beside Tokiya and reaching for the notebook.

Tokiya merely nods and lets him take it, bewildered and not sure what to say about any of this. This is the strangest, most earnest kid he's ever met, and he's not sure what to make of it. It's making him a little suspicious. He narrows his eyes a bit and massages his arm as he watches the redhead examine his notebook intently.

"Ah, what a mess... At least it's only wet in patches, so maybe you won't loose some of what you've written," his voice is hopeful, as he gently runs a finger under one of the semi-smudged lines of text. "You should try putting it in some rice! I dunno if it works for notebooks, but I heard you can do that with your cell phones if they get wet... What is this, anyway?" He's scanning the page with a sudden burst of interest, and Tokiya decides that's enough intrusiveness from him.

He snatches the book back and sets it across his legs, leveling a stern look at the blinking redhead. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with."

"Hah, you _can_ talk," the boy says with a smile, unperturbed. "I was starting to wonder. My name's Ittoki Otoya." He pauses for a response, his smile staying in place without so much as a flicker as Tokiya lets the silence drag for a moment.

"... Ichinose Tokiya," he relents quietly, and has to blink himself as Ittoki's smile widens noticeably. It takes Tokiya a second to realize that the only trigger for that was simply that he decided to answer. Ittoki is just happy... To have his name?

"Great! Nice to meet you." Ittoki looks like he honestly means that. "So..." He leans forward to see the notebook, which is still open. "These are lyrics, right? Do you like to write songs?"

Tokiya had been about to move his notebook away from the nosy boy again and find some way to politely excuse himself, but he stops, at that. There's something about the way Ittoki asked... His face is so open and easy to read, and all Tokiya sees is plain curiosity.

"Yes, I do," Tokiya answers carefully. "Why do you ask?"

Ittoki leans back and excitedly claps his hands together once, sharply, and his smile brightens to a grin. "That's awesome! I can't write that kind of stuff very well..." His grin turns sheepish. "I'm horrible at finding the right words for what I want to express..."

Tokiya doubts that somehow. Ittoki seems like he's able to express himself quite well.

"You certainly seem talkative enough to me," he says, reflecting his thoughts without thinking - which startles him, because _not thinking _is something he never does. Maybe Ittoki's motormouth problem is contagious.

But Ittoki just laughs. "So people tell me," he agrees amiably. "But it's different somehow, when I'm trying to write something down."

Tokiya hums noncommittally. It's the opposite for him; he find it difficult to talk to people openly, like Ittoki is doing so easily with a stranger he's known about ten minutes... But in his music, there is nothing _but_ truth and honesty.

Ittoki is looking anxious again, and staring at the notebook. "Man, now I feel even worse. I totally ruined everything you've written in there..."

He looks so downtrodden that Tokiya finds himself attempting to reassure him. "Ah, no, it's all right. I only just started to fill this notebook. I can remember what I had in it well enough."

Ittoki smiles again, looking relieved. "Oh, okay. And hey, maybe this time, as you're rewriting them you'll see parts that you can make even better! Oh, er... Not that I'm saying your work is _bad_... I mean, I didn't even read much of it..." Ittoki verbally flails.

Tokiya rolls his eyes, a little amused despite himself. "I know what you meant."

"Oh good, because I sure didn't," Ittoki snorts, shaking his head. "So, if you write lyrics... Do you sing or play an instrument or anything?"

"Do _you_?" Tokiya counters instead of answering, a little off-balance at how comfortably this redheaded kid is treating him, and how genuinely interested he seems. It's like he has no other goal here than to spend time chatting and making a new friend.

"Oh, sure I do," Ittoki answers easily, nodding his head happily. "I've always been interested in music. I love to play the guitar, and I can sing all right. I need more practice with both of them, definitely, but my parents say I've got some real talent," he says with a proud smile.

That smile... It's _exactly_ like the one his mother wears when she sings with him. It's not boastful or smug in any way. It's a good sort of proud, one that shows nothing but simple pleasure in one's skill and delight in using it.

Seeing someone else outside of the two of them who can smile like that makes something _click_ inside of his head. It brings the realization that he can't loose that part of himself, and his mother wouldn't want him too, either, because she feels it as well. It would hurt her even more to see him quit.

Giving up isn't the answer.

"You okay there, Tokiya?" Ittoki waves a hand in front of his face, a little concerned. "You kinda spaced out for a sec..."

"I'm fine," Tokiya says, a little louder than he needs to, and leans away from Ittoki's hand. He gives the other boy an annoyed look. "And who said you could call me by my first name?"

It somehow seems very in character for this weirdly friendly boy to go around calling people by their first names and getting away with it, but _still_...

Ittoki is giving him that guileless grin again as he takes his hand back. "I guess you _are_ fine," he says, and his red-colored gaze is strangely perceptive. "Much better than earlier, anyway. I saw you a few times as I was running around with my friends, and you were in the same pose every time. You looked all broody and depressing and hunched over, like some kind of gargoyle."

"... Gargoyle?" Tokiya gives him a blank stare. "I did _not_ look like a gargoyle, _Otoya_."

"Yes, you did!" Otoya snickers, and (probably purposely) skips over the issue of names entirely. Instead, he mimics how Tokiya had been sitting earlier, with some exaggerations. He wraps his arm around his raised knee and ducks his head into his shoulders, furrowing his eyebrows deeply. "Like this, see? You even have the stony eyes that go with it."

Tokiya isn't sure whether to laugh or hit the other boy on the shoulder, so he settles for something in between. "And then you decided to wake me up with a soccer ball," he says dryly.

"Oh, yeah. I hit you on purpose. That was totally the plan," Otoya bobs his head with an amused smirk, looking pleased that Tokiya's teasing him back.

"Yes, well, if you ask me, your plan needs some work," Tokiya's voice steadily goes dryer, as he gives a pointed look at his _not_ dry notebook. "And your aim."

"Yeah, well -" Otoya begins, adopting an imperious look, when suddenly, they're interrupted. Otoya's friends are back and calling for him, and he turns to Tokiya with an apologetic look. "Ah, sorry. It looks like I've kept them waiting too long. Hey, I'll meet up with you here again sometime! You should bring one of your other notebooks," he adds a little hesitantly, his smile shrinking and growing a little shy. "I'd like to read your lyrics."

Tokiya gives him a measuring look, and doesn't answer for a moment. It's not that he's afraid to let others read his work - he's going to be an idol, of course that isn't the problem - it's just that... Otoya himself is the issue. He's so _different_, and Tokiya doesn't know what to do with it. He's never met someone who he can just chat with and tease with so much ease in their first, and very short, meeting.

Tokiya is good at reading people, and Otoya has no barriers whatsoever. It's unspoken, just a part of how he is; it's easy to tell that Otoya wants nothing from him but his company. He's never even thought about wanting that from someone himself. He's always been content how he is.

"I'll think about it," he says, and Otoya's grin is back full-force, as if he's already said yes.

With a cheerful wave and shout of _see ya later, Tokiya!_ Otoya is running off.

As it turns out, it will be much later.

His parents will file for divorce, two weeks from now, and then after that he and his mother work seriously toward achieving Tokiya's dreams.

It's the last time he'll see Ittoki Otoya for a long time... But the memory of the encounter will stick with him, flickering into his mind every now and then.

And when his dreams become a reality, and he has to create a public persona that he can use... A lot of ideas for what Hayato should be like filter through his mind, but it's not until the memory of bright red eyes and a carefree grin comes to him that he finds something that feels right.

Yes, he thinks, as he remembers Ittoki Otoya, and his open expressions and approachable, cheerful aura. That's what he wants Hayato to be.

Someone who cares about the welfare of a complete stranger and can jump right into a conversation with him. Someone comfortable with people, who's trustworthy, who acts like he wants to be everyone's friend and _means _it.

* * *

It's a few years and many, many changes later before Tokiya is fed up to _here_ with... With _everything_.

He has tried, so hard, but he can't stand it anymore.

The agency isn't listening to him, no matter how subtly or how bluntly he speaks, or what he tries. They're piling far too much work on him, and none of it is what he wants to be doing. They're wearing him down, and some days he can't even remember why he's doing this, whatever project _this_ might be, whatever hoops they're making him jump through.

"_You need the experience and publicity_," they say. Or, _"How could we let you miss this chance?_" and of course, his least favorite, something along the lines of, "_It's for your own good."_

They have no idea what's _good_ for him.

Hayato has become something utterly different than what he wanted him to be, and he knows he's loosing it. He isn't even sure what _it_ is. He just can't put his finger on it, but it feels vital, and it's slipping out of his grip.

He knows that something's got to change, or something will _break_. Probably his sanity. He already feels alarmingly cold and listless inside at times, even when he's singing, and he can't figure out _why_. He's never felt that way when he sings...

And worst of all, recently, it's becoming harder and harder to see if he's still Tokiya, or if Hayato has taken over more of him that he's supposed to. The mask is melting, melding with the skin of the one who is wearing it, and it terrifies him when he finds that it's increasingly difficult to step out of Hayato's mannerisms and revert to his own.

That's when he decides enough is enough, and he talks things over with his mother (who has slowly been growing more concerned as she sees changes in him) and they hatch a plan between them.

He's not going to give this life up, and prove his father right. He _is_ strong enough to handle this. But he does recognize that what he's going through right now is very much unnecessary, and he can take a lot of stress off of himself and go back to doing what he loves most if he can find new employers and approach being an idol from a different direction. Maybe then, he can figure out just what's happening to him and _stop_ it.

So they discreetly set up an appointment, and when they go to the Shining offices... Shining Saotome himself greets them loudly with lots of confetti, spinning about with grand gestures and a dramatic soundtrack.

Tokiya is used to working with people of varying levels of eccentricity, but Saotome blows them all out of the water. He's somewhat blindsided by their first meeting, but his mother takes it in stride and even seems amused as she greets the man like this is an everyday occurrence for her, and Tokiya has never been more grateful for her easy-going nature.

A deal is negotiated and agreed upon, and when spring rolls around, Tokiya moves into the Saotome Academy's dorms.

It doesn't take him long to move the last of his boxes into his room, thankfully. His roommate, whoever he is, is oddly absent. Not that he minds. He hasn't bothered to check who is assigned to live with him yet; he doesn't really care, as he's not here to make friends. Due to a few last minute details he had to take care of as Hayato, he's already cutting it close himself; he hardly has time enough to care about being curious over someone he's only going to exchange a few words a day with at best.

By the time he's done, he decides to step out to get a cup of coffee from the cafeteria nearby to give him a boost. It seems like he's drinking the stuff by the gallons these days, and he knows it'll only get worse as he tries to keep up with both work and school... But he knows he can handle it. It will be worth all of the effort in the end.

He's turning around the last corner before the hall that leads to his room, when -

Someone plows into him at full force, and his Styrofoam cup is sent flying up as he crashes to the floor. He has only a second to process the impact and that he's awkwardly sprawled on the floor, before gravity's hold on the flimsy cup brings it down on his chest. The lid bursts off and then he's drenched in lukewarm coffee.

"Ow ow ow..." Someone hisses next to him, and then, "Oh, crap! I'm sorry!"

There's something familiar about that voice. Tokiya rolls over and sits up, swiping at his eyes, and as the brown leaves his vision, all he sees is _red_. A very particular shade of crimson red.

Wide, puppyish eyes and messy hair and a fiercely embarrassed blush greet him, exactly the same as before aside from the age of the face, and Tokiya almost feels like laughing for the first time in a long while.

"Aw crap," Ittoki Otoya says again, pulling himself to sit upright as his eyes scan Tokiya up and down. "I'm so sorry! That's not your favorite shirt or anything, right?" He jokes awkwardly.

"Unfortunately for you, it _is_," Tokiya tells him with faint sarcasm, which the redhead misses.

"Ugh... Of course it is. And of _course_ something like this happens right before the first day of class..." He complains, as he looks Tokiya in the face for the first time. He pauses, and seeing how he squints at Tokiya and visibly tries to place him in his memory is almost like watching a cartoon. "Oh... Hey, I know you from somewhere, don't I?"

Tokiya hardly expects Otoya to remember him from one short meeting a few years ago. There hadn't really been much about him that would leave an impression back then. He inwardly sighs and gets ready to explain his cover story (he's already been stopped by several people) for the nth time -

"You're that guy!" Otoya says, eyes lighting up as he waves his hands for emphasis. Well, that's the first time Hayato has been refered to as 'that guy' - but Otoya isn't done. "That guy from the park forever ago, the one who looked like a gargoyle. Tokiya, right? Ichinose Tokiya?"

And with that, Ittoki Otoya is the only person (aside from his mother) in a very long time to greet him by his real name first. Even his coworkers have long since taken to calling him 'Hayato' as a nickname, out of the spotlight or not.

... He's also the first person _ever_, and hopefully the _last_, to associate him with a gargoyle.

"... Yes, that's correct," Tokiya says, as he gets to his feet, grimacing at his coffee-covered shirt. After a moment of hesitation, he offers a hand up to Otoya, who accepts it cheerfully. "We've got to stop meeting like this, Ittoki."

Otoya's head tilts back as he laughs, easy and careless and light. After so long working with people who parade around behind eccentricities, masks and facades (including himself) and who use lies and half-truths as easily as breathing... Hearing the complete and total freedom in that sound, and seeing it in Otoya's expression as his laughter subsides, is like taking a deep breath of fresh air.

"Will you hit me if I tell you I feel better that it's you I spilled coffee on instead of some random stranger?" Otoya asks teasingly. It's like he's picking right up where they left off, years ago.

Maybe he is.

Tokiya doesn't point out that they _are_ strangers to each other, if not random ones, and instead he says flatly, "Yes, I think I will. So you'd better not mention it."

Otoya snorts, then shots him a look. "Anyway, what's with this 'Ittoki' business? You're 'Tokiya' and I'm 'Otoya,' got it? We agreed on that last time."

"I don't recall agreeing on anything," Tokiya says archly, then turns and starts walking down the hall toward his room. He's not going to stand around chatting in this shirt, thanks.

"Oh, don't be that way," Otoya chides him as he follows at Tokiya's side, easily matching his long strides. "You didn't tell me _not_ to, and you've totally lost your chance now. The return warranty expired exactly..." Otoya makes a show of checking his watch. "One hour ago."

"What a shame," Tokiya murmurs in a deadpan as he approaches his door. "I was never told about any time limits. Who do I call to make a complaint to about this terrible customer service?"

"Oh, sorry, all the phones at our home office are out of order," Otoya chirps, a quirky smile on his lips. "You'll have to check back at a later - oh hey! Wow! This is my room number! Don't tell me..." His eyes have gone wide as he glances between the fancy golden numbers on the wall beside where they've stopped and Tokiya, who is now wishing he'd checked the name of his assigned roommate earlier.

"It's mine, too," he finishes with a nod, inwardly wondering at this strange turn of coincidences. He meets Ittoki Otoya, of all people, in this Academy and then he finds they've been assigned as roommates...?

"Haha!" Otoya crows and fishes around in his pocket for his copy of the door key. He doesn't seem to find anything odd about the situation. "I can't believe it! We're going to be roommates. This is perfect." Or perhaps he doesn't care.

Tokiya stares a little at his new _roommate's_ show of enthusiasm. The redhead pushes the door open and practically waltzes inside, his already high level of energy increased twofold. When Tokiya waits just a tad too long to follow, he reappears in the doorway and grabs him by the upper arm, dragging him in and firing good-natured teasing and half a dozen questions at him.

Well. They've known each other for a total of about twenty-five minutes, and Tokiya's even more confused about how to handle Ittoki Otoya now than he was the last time.

He's only starting to get an idea of just how boundless that cheer and energy he'd admired years ago is. What has he gotten himself into?

* * *

The day that Otoya met a strange, cool, quiet boy in the park near his adoptive parents' house was one that he'd never forgotten.

He had looked so small and sad, sitting in his own little corner of the park and practically suffocating under a cloud of gloom. It had made Otoya feel especially bad when he'd accidentally kicked his soccer ball right into him.

In the flurry of embarrassment and apologies, and wanting to try and make up for it, he'd hardly been paying attention to what he'd been doing or saying. He'd tended to get flustered more easily back then, when he messed up. He still does, to a degree, but he's learned to try and laugh it off.

The point is, he'd ended up with the soaked notebook, and he'd seen a lot more of the still-readable lyrics on the pages than he'd let on.

Those words...

They had been so _sad_.

He couldn't remember what they were, now. Too much time had passed, and he'd never been the best at memorizing written words, at least not until he'd really started getting into singing and had learned how. At the time, he hadn't, though he really wishes he had.

But the emotion behind those words, that had stayed with him. Confusion, disappointment, hurt, sorrow and helplessness... Not to mention the sympathetic corresponding emotions they'd stirred up in his chest. Yeah, that had stayed with him.

Anyone who could write something like _that_ definitely needed a friend, and so Otoya had stayed where he'd sat down and started talking. Prying words out of this gargoyle-like boy had been like pulling the stone teeth out of said statue, but it had been worth it. Before they'd had to part, he'd seen something form in those slate-blue eyes, a resolve of some kind.

That had reassured him, more than anything.

He really wished they'd been able to meet again and become friends properly (even he knew a handful of minutes didn't really tell you much about a person), but it wasn't to be so, for whatever reasons.

Maybe Tokiya will tell him sometime. He isn't going to let Tokiya push him away, but he isn't going to pry, either. Maybe it even had something to do with Hayato, who's apparently Tokiya's twin brother and who he doesn't seem to like at all. Go figure, right? If Otoya had a twin... Well, he doesn't, so it doesn't matter.

Anyway, he could tell right away when they met again that this older Tokiya needs a friend, even more now than he had before. There was a... Well, a kind of _hollowness_ in his eyes, for lack of a better term, and a closed coolness in his manner, where before he had only been almost painfully formal. Which he still is, but like he said, it's _different_. It's a good sign that he can at least still get Tokiya to trade witty remarks and barbs with him, even if it's kind of hard to tell if the guy actually means them or not...

Well, he's more than happy to oblige. He always likes to make a new friend. Besides, there's something about this quiet, intense boy that Otoya likes. They're going to be the _best_ of friends in no time, he _knows_ it.

But, for now... He'll go slowly. He can tell that Tokiya isn't sold on the idea of being anything other than cordial with him yet. That resolve that Otoya had seen him form is gone, and Otoya silently swears to himself that's going to get it back. He still wants to read Tokiya's work (and perhaps hear it or sing it himself, depending on which course Tokiya's taking), and hopes that when he does, it'll be lighter in nature than the half a song he'd read before.


End file.
